Running

I can hear it’s footfalls, chasing me down.

No matter how hard I try to outrun it, it is still there.

Clinging to me, I cannot shake it.

I try to ignore it’s pestering, it’s constant poking.

Laughing almost, at my vain attempt to escape.

I need not look over my shoulder to know that its there.

My past is mine, I own it, all of it.

Gifted to me by living it, forced on me by enduring it.

It’s shadow looms over me, giving no quarter.

Ridiculously, I’ve tried to outrun it. Tried to deny it.

Now I must turn and confront it,

and try to embrace it’s prickly skin.